


Green is my favourite colour

by carrowmetohell



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, Gotham City Sirens (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, F/F, F/M, Harleen Quinzel is seeing Poison Ivy in session, The Joker ruins everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-02-13 16:24:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrowmetohell/pseuds/carrowmetohell
Summary: Dr. Harleen Quinzel met Poison Ivy seconds before she met the Joker."Don'cha know green's my favourite colour?"





	1. Chapter 1

Dr. Penelope Young marched into Dr. Quinzel’s office, bursting through the door without so much as knocking. No wonder she isn’t popular in the tearoom. Harley mused, peering up from her notepad at the intrusion. “How did you get Ivy?” The brunette demanded to know, her eyes flashing with a disturbing anger behind her fringe. 

With a sigh, the blonde pressed her fingers to her temples, letting the more senior doctor stew in silence for a moment as she urged herself not to snap in response. That’s all Penelope wanted. She knew Harley had a temper and she’d tried countless times to pop her light-hearted, bubble-gum disposition. Not today sweetheart. 

Harley’s morning had been rather trying before now. It was Tuesday which meant her first session of the day was with Edward Nygma and his infernal riddles. The man was a difficult enough patient to deal with on a normal day as he never allowed a session to begin without his doctor first answering a puzzle. 9am was usually a little too early for Harley to enjoy that kind of brain teaser yet she had succeeded for the past 6 months.

Today however, was his Birthday and he’d decided to celebrate at Harley’s expense. He said he’d wanted to play a game with her and stupidly she’d agreed to participate. Edward had told her that the answer to his latest challenge was hidden within the Gotham Gazette crosswords from the past week. Harley was not good at crosswords. 

“Poison Ivy?” She asked in a terse tone. If Penelope wanted answers from her, she better ask her a properly formed question. Harley was sick of riddles.

“Yes.” Penelope hissed baring her teeth, as if that much was obvious. Harleen bristled at her tone. Even though Dr. Quinzel had been working at Arkham for the past couple of years following a rather successful stint at Blackgate prison, Dr. Young treated her like she was incompetent. Penelope refused to give her a break or any credit for her skill as a psychiatrist. 

Dr. Young was a narcissistic bitch. Harleen often wondered how the woman had passed her own psyche evaluation that was a mandatory part of the accreditation process at Arkham.

“When was she been apprehended?” Harleen replied coolly, folding her arms.

“She was brought in this morning.” Penelope replied, inspecting her nails. “As your patient you already ought to know that.”

Harleen shifted the sleeve of her white coat and checked her watch. It was barely 11am, Poison Ivy would still be in processing. “Looks like I have a patient to meet then.” 

Penelope cleared her throat expectantly. “Excuse me. You never answered my question.” Penelope was really trying the blonde’s patience. Harley was really starting to detest this woman.

“Well Ivy refuses to see a male doctor. I'm sure that's reason number one.” Harley emphasised the point by raising one finger. Raising a second she continued. “Number two, I’m sure, has something to do with the fact that I practise with compassion. A concept which seems lost on you entirely, judging by how your last session with Victor Fries went.” Harley shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant fashion. “That’d be my guess.”

Penelope clenched her fists, her knuckles white. “Tread carefully Quinzel. You might be popular with Leland and Arkham for now, but I’ll be here waiting when you fall.” The girls vindictive smile put no doubt in Harley’s mind that she would be. Harley would just have to make sure she never gave old Penny the satisfaction. 

Resisting the urge to blow raspberries at her colleague, Harleen collected herself and left her office. Leaving Penelope stood inside. 

♦♦♦

Harley always tried to see her patients on the day of their admittance to the Arkham. However, she’d never quite gone to see them this soon after processing. She’d read Poison Ivy’s file but of course everyone who worked at Arkham had. As a result she knew Ivy’s processing procedure was one of the more unorthodox options the asylum offered. Harleen couldn’t help but be a little curious to meet the woman.

Prior to now, Harley had only seen the woman on the big screen. In all honesty she wasn’t sure why she’d been given Ivy and without being told so by Joan Leland she was a little hesitant to go and introduce herself straight away. 

♦♦♦

“Miss Isley? May I call you Pamela?” A sweet, girly voice fluttered through the cold iron bars of Ivy’s cell. 

Ivy sat naked, her back pressed against cold concrete, knees tucked close to her chest. The eco-terrorist had just been through processing and they’d hosed her down without giving her the Arkham uniform. The guards at the asylum had realised early on that she never intended to wear it. Still, she had been weakened by the pesticides they had sprayed her with and was unable to conjure her vine leotard. It would have been nice to wear something. 

_This one’s bold._ Poison Ivy thought scowling at her title. Just because she was a criminal didn’t mean she lost the years of work that went into her PhD. The doctors at Arkham were far too keen to forget that little detail about her. It irked her. 

“Welcome to Arkham.” 

_Just who does this woman think she is? Welcome to Arkham. Pah! More like welcome back…_ She thought bitterly. Ivy didn’t bother to raise her head to look at the young woman standing in front of her cell.

“I’m Dr. Quinzel, I’ll be your psychiatrist.”

_Quinzel? Stupid name._

“I’m here to help you, but I hope, perhaps we could be friends?”

_Friends?_

Well that deserved a peek. Ivy noticed the young woman’s hand was extended into her cell. Had Ivy not been completely nude she might have taken advantage of the situation. Hell, she could still take advantage. Did this doctor not realise how dangerous she was? Ivy found herself hoping that this wasn’t Quinzel’s approach with all the inmates at Arkham. Killer Croc would have a field day with her…

“You do realise I can concentrate enough toxins in my hand to kill you in seconds, don’t you?” Ivy retorted, her voice sharp but she couldn’t keep the curiosity out of her tone.

“All friendships have a strong foundation of trust.” Dr. Quinzel said with a smile, pushing her hand through the cell bars. 

Ivy didn’t have a chance to think before she was on her feet. Suddenly her hand was in the younger woman’s one. The doctor’s hand was warm and there was something else-

**HAHAHAHAHAHA!**

Ivy’s thoughts were interrupted by the piercing laughter that ricocheted down the corridor. The knifelike yet cloying sound that announced the arrival of Gotham’s resident fowl clown. Poison Ivy released the doctor as if she’d been electrocuted.

The good doctor spun around at the disturbance. “Oh!” She exclaimed, baby blues widening in alarm. 

She looked like a deer caught in headlights as none other than the Batman escorted the Joker in her direction. Little did she realise the Joker rather relished that expression on her face. 

Ivy clenched her jaw, returning to the back wall of her cell to protect her modesty. Last thing she needed was the Joker leering at her. This time she kept her green eyes trained on Harleen. 

“Pardon us Doctor.” The Batman said gruffly, leading the Joker forward with steel determination. The clown pouted but there was a glint of something in his expression that looked rather like he’d won something.

Curious. Harley thought, fixated by the pair.

Wait? The Batman caught me and the Joker all within the same morning? Ivy fumed internally. The realisation made her furious. How could she have allowed herself to be caught so easily? The Batman was just a man but feats like this made him more than that. Oh, how she intended to ground him upon her next escape. Damn bat…

The caped crusader and the clown passed the two women without a second thought. At least Harley assumed they did as she watched them. That’s when the Joker turned. His eyes locked with hers and time stopped.

“Yum.” He whispered huskily, looking directly at her. The intensity of his gaze burned her in ways she had never felt before. Harley couldn’t explain it. 

“Oh.” She whispered, still surprised but this time the sound soft. All she knew was that she needed to see him again.

Batman grabbed the Joker’s arm roughly and shoved him forward as if to teach him a lesson. The clown stumbled but regained his balance just as easily as he’d lose it. He started to howl with laughter once more. The sound consumed the corridor. Little did Harley know it was to consume her too. 

Ivy had watched the whole exchange with keen eyes. It seemed as though the Joker had marked her new doctor’s card already. Great. She had seemed different. Ivy thought, dismissing the thoughts as quickly as they’d sprouted in her mind. 

What was she thinking? She was Poison Ivy. Not some wretched patient longing for the approval and friendship of the Arkham staff. Ivy folded her arms bitterly. She was sore and feeling humiliated. A valid excuse for weakness and self-pity. No matter. She’d feel better tomorrow.

“I-I’ll see you in session tomorrow Miss Isley.” Harley spoke, quite obviously still distracted by what had happened.

“It’s Dr. Isley. _Doctor_.” Ivy snapped, unable to contain her displeasure. 

“Yes, yes of course, my apologies doctor. I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” The blonde’s response was hurried, her accent suddenly broader and more noticeable. Was that Brooklyn? Ivy couldn't be certain. 

Harley hurried away, her heels click-clacking down the corridor.

It was only later that she realised she missed the doctors warm hand in her own.


	2. Session #0001

Harleen thumbed through the thick file on her desk. Inside was everything Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley’s previous psychiatrists at Arkham had thought prudent to observe about her. There were speculative diagnoses for various neurosis, psychosis, narcissism, hypersexuality, histrionic personality disorder, schizophrenia – the list really was extensive. 

It seemed as though every psychiatrist Pamela had ever seen had tried to add another condition to her file. Harleen had heard rumours about malpractice and sloppy work over at Arkham during her degree programme but she’d figured that was just the usual Gotham corruption rumours running rampant. Batman wouldn’t bring people to a place he knew was corrupt and surely a man of his resources would have the means to investigate his local dumping ground. 

Still it was strange to see that no apparent diagnosis had been struck from her record and all of them had been marked as speculative. Here at Arkham, they had access to some of the most unique patients in the world. Why wouldn’t they be getting the very best care and specialists to diagnose and treat them? Harley chewed the end of her pen. She’d get to the bottom of this. 

Sighing she glanced down at the files at her feet. Three boxes of files to be exact. The boxes contained copies of all the police reports pertaining to Pamela’s crimes as Poison Ivy the eco-terrorist, eccentric rare plants collector and seductive murderess extraordinaire.

It was quite the Sunday night reading collection. Unfortunately, due to the sudden admittance of her patient, Harley had not had enough time to go through them all. It would take her weeks to get through it all. 

She pulled the pen out of her mouth and placed it in her breast pocket. With a quick glance at her watch, she drained her coffee and prepared to leave. 

One last check over her outline for the session and Harley would be ready for her new and infamous patient. Her thoughts were interrupted by Dr. Arkham who entered her office after knocking on her door with a light rapping. 

“Ah, Dr. Quinzel there you are, I was hoping we’d catch you before you left for your session with Isley. Dr. Young here informs me that you’ve met your new patient already.” Penelope, who had followed their boss into her office grinned at Harley with the kind of self-satisfied smug that suggested she thought Harley was about to be reprimanded.

Oh, Dr. Young could go eat shit.

Harley tried not to scowl at her, instead giving her boss a strained and awkward smile. The kind reserved for the woman you keep bumping into at the grocery store even though she cut you up on your way into the car park. That bitch could go eat shit as well. Grumbling internally, Harley strained to maintain her professional façade.

“I’d have preferred to brief you before you went to meet her of course. 

As I’m sure you know, I was one of her Dr’s during her earlier stays here but no matter. No harm done.” He offered her a warm smile she supposed was encouraging but unfortunately the man always looked a little on the brink of hysteria. 

Harley nodded curtly, ensuring she’d brightened her smile, “next time I’ll make sure to see you first.”

“Perfect,” Dr. Arkham smiled at her, showing far more teeth than he needed to. “Well enjoy your session with Ivy.” He turned on his heel to leave the blondes office and almost crashed into the woman behind him. “Oh! Penelope, don’t you have a patient to be seeing?” Dr. Young scampered away, clearly displeased with the way that situation had developed. 

This time it was Harley’s turn to look smug. Dr. Young had always been an irritating colleague, but she’d never had a vendetta against her. 

Harley found herself wondering how long it would last before Young would get bored and pick on one of the other Doctors in residence. She was a bully. Maybe Harley would get lucky and Young would be assigned to the Joker. Dismissing the thought as cruel, Harley decided she didn’t really want Penelope killed and the Lord knew the Joker would find her annoying.

Shaking her head, Harley gathered her notepad and clipboard and headed to her session room. “Is she in there?” She asked the guard at the door. He yawned and nodded lazily. The guard opened the door for her and shut it behind them. 

Pamela was restrained in a cold, uncomfortable looking chair. She was bound leather shackles at her wrists and ankles. Green eyes flicked to her newly appointed psychiatrist and then back to the wall clock hanging above the door. 

“You’re late.” 

Harley was greeted with an accusation. She followed Pamela’s gaze to the wall clock and watched the seconds hand pass the 6. She was exactly 30 seconds late. Harley frowned as she took her seat, she hadn’t wanted to get off on the wrong foot.

“It’s still late.” Pamela informed her as though she would be unaware, she assumed the frown was for her attitude. “Late is late.” For some reason, Harley could imagine Pamela shrugging her shoulders and spinning around to announce that statement to magnificent bat windows. 

“Uh, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Harley held her hands up and placed her notepad on top of her lap. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you Dr. Isley. That’s why I came to see you yesterday.”

She remembered your correct title. Does this one actually show a little respect? Pamela wondered before responding roughly. “Ah yes, that’s right. You want us to be ‘friends’.” She scoffed. 

“Well I-” Before Harley had a chance to answer, Pamela interrupted her.

“I’m a patient at an insane Asylum – Please do notice that I don’t call this dump a mental care facility or institution. This is an archaic hospital to discard the people of Gotham that they don’t or won’t understand. How exactly can you want to be friends and maintain a professional relationship within such a distinguished… Hospital?” Pamela almost spat the last word out. “You want to win my trust so I’ll be a good patient and a good one for your record.”

Harley shook her head, resisting the urge to take notes. Harley didn’t think Pamela would appreciate being analysed and written about so openly. No one was. She was however, making a mental record of their conversation, hoping she’d remember enough to write a detailed report at the end of their session.

“I don’t want to be the kind of doctor you don’t feel you can trust.” 

Pamela frowned, “I’m fairly certain that isn’t Dr. Arkham’s mission statement.”

Harley shrugged, “well he assigned me to you. He must see something in my work.”

“Or you’re yet another disposable undergraduate shrink straight out of Gotham high.”

“I earned my title the same as you.” Harley was reminded of Pamela’s anger when she’d neglected the scientists own title.

“Check mate.” Pamela smiled and Harley couldn’t help but notice how perfect it was. Her lips were full, her teeth white and perfectly straight. Even her green skin looked exquisite in this light. The bulbs in the interrogation room weren’t as harsh as they were in the cell blocks. 

“Well,” she drew Harley in with her verdant eyes, “who are your other patients – your other so called ‘high profile’ cases. What other strange do you have on your daily itinerary.” 

Harley thought she shouldn’t answer honestly, but what was the harm. Something about Pamela’s face just drew her in, made her feel safe. Whatever she wanted to hear, Harley felt as though she wanted to tell her. “Edward Nygma.” She said softly.

“Riddler?”

Harley nodded.

“Mother nature, he’s an annoying bastard.”

Harley attempted to conceal her smile. She agreed but of course she couldn’t admit that. “We’re here to talk about you.” 

“I am a much more interesting patient, but talk is cheap.”

“It can be.” 

“You’re used to cheap talk.” Pamela stated

“Isn’t everyone in Gotham?”

“That’s the second valid point you’ve made since this session started.”   
Not exactly a compliment, Harleen mused but she accepted it as one nonetheless. “I think that’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve steered the conversation away from yourself.”

“I’m not playing the narcissist role very, well am I?”

Harley was tempted to say no but something deep within her training called her to flip the question around, “what makes you say that?”

“Honey, do you read the papers?” Pamela was really excellent when it came to employing a condescending tone. She was smart, possibly too   
smart.

“Of course I know you were diagnosed as such by the ‘Gotham Gazette, but I want to know why you think you should play the role for my benefit?”

“Well then you can re-diagnose me, and we can be done here.”

“Done here?” That didn’t mean what she thought it meant? No one had a free pass on these sessions. The treatment was part of their sentencing. How could that be right? Pamela seemed to read her mind and so she filled in the gaps.

“I get my new diagnosis and I don’t have to do these stupid sessions   
anymore. That’s the arrangement I’ve have with the good Dr. Arkham anyway.”

“What!?” Harley almost knocked the notepad off her lap in surprise. 

“Even the Bat knows.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“In return, I maintain the gardens here. Gotham council just love to save money. Do you know how much it costs to maintain it all when I’m not around?”

Harley slumped backwards in her chair. The rumours of corruption ran deeper than she expected. 

“He didn’t tell you?” That devious smile was back on Pamela’s lips. “Of course, he didn’t! Men lie. It’s all they do.”

Harley cleared her throat and clenched her jaw. This was something she was going to have look into deeper but now wasn’t the right time or space to lose her temper in. “Do you have a problem with men in general or just ones in power?”

“All men have power,” Pamela strained her neck, clicking it to the left and then to the right. “Don’t be so fucking naïve.”

Harley didn’t have a response for that. Luckily, she didn’t need one. 

“Time’s up,” the guard outside the door barked, opening it up to come an collect his prisoner. 

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you.” Harley concluded with a smile.

“Oh, believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Enough Ivy. Don’t even try your wooing bullshit with this one.”

“You’re never any fun Frank.” Pamela cooed, her light laughter ringing in Harley’s ears after she left. What was it with howling laughter haunting her through these corridors? In all the excitement with Ivy, she’d forgotten about the Joker.


End file.
